


i love you (i still hear your voice inside my sleep)

by benditlikepress



Series: fill in the blanks [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Family, drop-offs and nightmares and secret phonecalls: oh my!, set about a month after Cairo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benditlikepress/pseuds/benditlikepress
Summary: Saturday 23rd July 2016. Undisclosed location.Tired, alone, and struggling to adjust to life on the run, Ziva finds herself headed to Paris in the middle of the night.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Series: fill in the blanks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820485
Comments: 20
Kudos: 43





	i love you (i still hear your voice inside my sleep)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indestinatus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indestinatus/gifts).



> title is from glowing brightly by florist
> 
> I, again, called bullshit on Ziva never having been to Tony’s apartment until Shiva

Ziva woke with a start. Forehead sweaty, hands shaking. Same old, same old.

She kept her eyes closed and tried desperately to cling onto the remnants of her dream. The same one that had woken her up too early every day for the past week: the two of them there, in front of her, smiling but looking straight through her. Tali running off, away from them, and him standing there with a blank look in his eyes. She approached him but he still couldn’t see her – didn’t react until she’d walked straight through him. The feeling of his body passing through hers like shards of glass digging into her chest.

It had been over a month since Cairo, but this had been going on since long before that. Climbing up on three years since she’d asked him to leave.

She thought it would've got easier by now.

She knew she had no right to think of him the way she did: to have spent every day of the last few years running thoughts of him on a loop all the while keeping secrets and pushing him away. She hoped he could understand, now, why she had thought it was the right thing. How she saw an inevitability to something like this happening: an inextricable web linking him to her and thus to danger and harm and other things that would ruin his life.

He deserved better. He still does.

Still, the reminder that struck her after seeing the two of them together for the first time when they’d showed up at the hotel in Egypt hadn’t managed to aid her in keeping her distance. She wasn’t sure what had been going through her mind when she’d booked the train ticket to Paris a couple of days ago.

She'd wanted to give them some time to settle into their new surroundings before throwing any kind of flame into the mix, keen for him to be able to get his feet on solid ground. Maybe she'd done it for selfish reasons, too: not having the strength to go over there and see them struggling.

When she had eventually made the trip she'd arrived in the evening. She hadn't known an exact address but he had told her in Cairo of a cake shop near their new apartment and she'd wandered the streets all night, scarf wrapped rightly around her head, hoping blindly she might catch a glimpse.

She'd found them, eventually, not long after sunrise. First people on the playground, before anyone else was even awake. She'd stayed 100 metres away, obscuring herself behind a canopy, and when they'd left the park Ziva had caught the first train out of Paris with tears irretrievably falling.

She knew it was risky, but that first glimpse had burrowed a hole in her head, digging and digging until she was powerless to stop herself. Another train from another city under another identity.

Never visit the same place twice. Once you leave, that's it. It was a rule that had served her well over the last couple of months, but she'd never been able to stick to them when it came to him.

She didn't dare stick around to watch them this time, weighing the risks against the fact that she wasn't sure she'd be able to leave ever again if she did. She thought about their early morning visit to the park. Memories of him sticking his head up through the climbing frame, roaring, making Tali squeal with laughter, and taped one of the phones she’d purchased on her way to the station to the top ceiling of the place where he’d come through.

She’d intended to ring him as soon as she got to the place she was staying that night but 48 hours without a wink of sleep had caught up with her and she’d collapsed onto her sleeping mat immediately upon arrival.

It was dawn now, though the room was kept dark by the heavy shutters over the windows. She could hear the sounds of the city starting to open up outside the front of the building, and the other women in the room were starting to stir.

She pulled the second burner phone she’d purchased yesterday out from her pocket and squinted at the harshness of the light as she held it above her face.

The woman curled up on the other side of the floor, the only other one in the room who’d had nightmares all night, lifted her head and cursed Ziva in a language she was both too tired and too wired to fully process. She climbed out of her blankets and stepped over sleeping bodies, leaving the room out through the small backyard.

Her shoes had been soaking wet when she'd got in a few hours earlier and left them outside the back-door but she pulled them on regardless, options limited as they were.

Surprisingly they were almost dry as she settled her feet inside the heavy-toed boots. One small blessing amongst a million lacking.

There was nobody out the back of the row of buildings as she opened the gate out into the alley. Boxes and weeds surrounding her, she sat on the floor with her back up against the garden wall and dialled.

She wasn't expecting the sudden hammering in her chest as she waited for the rings. Then again, maybe she should have: it was hardly the first time he had made her heart speed up like that. Not quite anxiety, though that was the root that had made her so familiar with that feeling in recent years. A kind of trepidation, usually mixed with excitement though that was a stark difference to the accompaniment this morning.

One ring. Two. The sound cut off, and there was a split second pause in which Ziva's stomach dropped through the floor.

"Hello?"

She exhaled at the sound of his voice. Present. Reassuring, hesitant though it was. A notch on her heart that was just enough to slow it down.

"Tony. Is it too late?"

"No, it's alright. It's not long after midnight." She could hear the tiredness in his voice, but it sounded like a more long-term fixture.

"Did the ringing wake you? Tali?"

"No, I was sat here with it in my hand. I thought maybe you weren't gonna make it tonight."

"Sorry it took so long, this is the first chance I have had."

"Everything alright?"

"As much as it usually is. It has just been a busy day."

"I'm really glad you called."

Usually this would’ve made Ziva smile, an easy admission, but right now it added nothing more than another drop of guilt. Sitting with his phone all night waiting for her to ring. "How did you know it was for you?"

"I didn't." A long pause. "Who left it for me?"

"I did. I left it this morning."

"You were here?"

"Briefly. I am gone now."

"Where are you?"

"It is probably best if I do not say. Far."

There was a heavy sigh and then silence on the other end of the line. Ziva watched a spider as it scurried up the wall opposite where she sat with her knees up in front of her. She gathered them in her arms.

“Has something happened?” His tone was soft in a way that would’ve implored her to tell every detail if there had been something happen. Something other than day after day of panic and running, slowly bearing down on her chest until she could hardly breathe. 

“Nothing in particular. I wanted to give you some time to settle in before I called."

"Why did you? Call?"

"I just wanted to hear your voice.” She wondered what he heard in her own. Was the sound tinny on these disposable phones? Did he have the volume turned right up so he could hear every breath? Could he hear the desperation in her tone, allowing it to cloud his responses? “To see how you are."

He'd tried to hide it in Cairo but she'd seen the way he was struggling: tired eyes and aching back and running his hands through his hair.

"Things aren't bad."

"No?"

"I think we're starting to settle down."

“OK. I-”

"What's Hebrew for bed? Or sleep? Or what did you say?"

"Why?"

"She's still not sleeping. Getting her to bed is like an Olympic event. I've tried lishon and yashen and everything I could find on google but.."

"She knows the English, Tony. She knows bed and sleep and night. If she is not obeying then she is just.."

"Not listening to me. OK."

Ziva sighed. "I am so sorry. She has always struggled at night, I should have talked more to you about it in Cairo but-" she felt herself beginning to spiral and pulled back, taking a breath. “I’m sorry. She has always struggled at night. Do you keep a light on?"

"Usually she ends up with me. I have a lamp."

"Perhaps you should get a plug-in nightlight. That is what we had at.." Ziva cut herself off.

"Why didn't I think of that?" She could hear a beat-down frustration in his voice, as though he'd been punishing himself. The thought made anxiety form a ball in her chest and her palms rapidly heat up.

"It is my fault - I should have told you. She has nightmares, sometimes. She is afraid of the dark."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I was afraid of the dark when I was very young. Maybe it is just something she got from me."

"I think it's the change, too. I've seen that already. It upsets her."

"Yes and I.. especially with what has happened." Ziva was finding it harder and harder to talk, thoughts racing at the implications of the things Tony was dancing round.

She couldn't sleep _because of her_. Because she'd left her - left her in the company of someone she'd never met because of Ziva's own selfishness and fear.

"I'm sorry, Tony. I should have told you."

"Hey, don't - are you crying?"

"No. No, I am just. I just need a moment."

Ziva pulled the phone away from her ear as she took a couple of deep breaths, washing away things she could put aside for another day. She wasn't about to waste the small window she had by getting upset instead of talking to him. Her ear was hot when she lifted her phone back to it, anxiety sending blood rushing around her body.

"You there?" He sounded tentative in a way she could remember him having been a handful of times over the years, a little fearful of her reaction to his words.

"Here."

"How are you, Ziva? Not just.. now. How's everything?"

"As can be expected. I am not sure how else to put it than that. Things are under control."

"It doesn't sound like it."

"I am not always like this. Usually I am the opposite, actually - in a strange way when I have something to do, it occupies my mind. A distraction. But when I think about the two of you.. that is different. I cannot breathe."

"Anxiety?" It was strange, still, to hear him say the word so openly. The kind of thing they'd both spent so long fighting to cover with translucent facades.

"Not just that. Guilt. Homesickness. Everything I am feeling is heightened to ten when I picture the two of you."

“How long have we got?”

The question was a little jarring and out of the blue. “No set time. But not too long. So long as I… so long as the phones are disposed of immediately.”

"D'you want me to wake her up?"

"No," Ziva interjected quickly, feeling a strange sense of panic mixed with her sadness. "Let her sleep. I do not want you awake all night because of me."

"She misses you."

"I miss her too."

" _I_ miss you. I know we - god, I know it's been forever. Maybe I should be used to it by now."

The fear that had been coursing through his every word up until now faded into something else – weak and loving and tired.

She knew he was talking about before – before any of this had happened, when there’d still been a chance of resolving this into some form of normality, even with him halfway across the world and her life unknowingly about to change forever.

It wasn’t where her mind went, though.

Memories of the last time she'd seen them. Her hand came up to her lips involuntarily. How it was possible for something so uncommon as a kiss between the two of them to provide such a feeling of comfort, she still wasn't sure. She thought about them in that hotel room in Cairo, Tali fast asleep on one side of the bed and the two of them squashed up on the other. How she'd been the one to reach out. Kissing him as though trying to expunge every memory of the last time - when he'd been the one to reach out on that airport tarmac, lips tasting of tears, when Tali was just three days old in her stomach.

"You're quiet."

"So are you.”

“What are you thinking about?"

"Have you found a job yet?"

It wasn’t what she was thinking about, and judging by the sudden jarring smirk she could hear Tony exhale before he began talking, they were both aware of that.

"Not yet. I don't think either of us have been ready for that."

"There is no rush."

"No, we're good for money for now." Ziva had offered him any of her father's trails he could access securely, but had been surprised by the amount of savings he already had for himself. "Vance said he'd help me out when I do start looking."

"That is kind of him."

"I think a part of him still feels a.. connection with you. After what happened with your dad."

"It will not just be about me. You were loyal to them for a very long time. People appreciate that."

When he didn't immediately respond she knew he was thinking about the abstract meaning behind her words.

“You know I appreciate that too. The things you do; I am not sure I could ever find the words to express how thankful I am.”

“You don’t need to say thanks for this. It’s not like I’m making a choice.”

“You are, though, Tony. Most people would have given up a long time ago. And I would not have blamed them for it.”

“It’s not a choice.” He stopped talking for a moment and Ziva wished more than ever she could see him – look at the expression on his face as he thought. “We’ve tried walking away once before and I was miserable. Just.. sleepwalking through every day, acting like I didn’t have somewhere I’d rather be. If this is the way it has to be so that things can work themselves out one day, then that’s what I’m doing. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“It is _loyalty_ , Tony. I hope Tali will learn that from you."

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe.” He was being coy as usual, finding a way through the compliments.

“And just for the record, I miss you too. More than you realise. Hearing your voice, it is…”

“I know.”

"I hope she learns that from you."

Repeating the words was redundant, but Ziva was trying to convey a meaning that she wasn't quite ready to say in full yet. Not sure how to articulate the way she saw Tony's loyalty - how admirable a trait it was. The sincerity of it that she'd be proud to see in their daughter one day. Something so raw and passionate, the way it had taken her breath away over and over again as she'd realised the lengths he would go to protect the things he cared about. Her being a principle one, of course, but not just her: his integrity, his belief in doing the right thing, the way he would always step up when he was needed. The way he did when he suddenly had a child to take care of, without even blinking.

Ziva was aware that what she was saying wouldn't make any sense to anyone else if they listened. She'd never spoken in riddles but equally she'd never been known for her candidness, and though she'd once seen it as a strength she had in time become frustrated with how hard she found it to tell the truth. Years of it hidden behind bureaucracy and professionalism and concealing emotion out of duty leaving her ill-equipped when she found herself increasingly wanting to confront it.

It was never something she'd worried about with Tony, though. He'd always had an uncanny ability to read her thoughts, and equally a frankly incredible ability to know when to push the button and when not to.

When she repeated the words and related them to Tali, she knew inherently he'd understand what she meant.

It took him a while to respond, and when he did she could hear the almost bashful note in his voice that suggested he had gotten the message.

“You got any advice? On the whole sleeping thing?”

“Do you tell her stories?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m not great at remembering fairytales so I make them up most of the time, but they don’t seem to do much.”

She felt herself softening at the thought, a warmth she hadn't felt since Cairo, remembering the fluttering feeling in her chest when she'd seen the two of them together. A couple of weeks together and already thick as thieves - Tony's awkwardness somehow so natural as he played games and dealt with her upsets. It was charming, as he always was, the way he seemingly stumbled into the perfect things to say to make Tali happy. She had no doubt that even in the short month since then he'd become a natural.

“Tell her things you know – stories about real life. Tell her about Paris. When we were there."

" _Everything_ that happened in Paris?"

For the first time since she'd called, Ziva felt a genuine, free smile spread on her face. "No, not everything. Romanticise it."

It was a funny word - to romanticise something. Paint it up and turn it into a story for a child. Truth be told, Ziva had always romanticised it. She wondered if he realised how much that weekend had meant, in the grand scheme of things. How it was another in a long line of before/after moments she used to weave the tale of their relationship - an invisible box being ticked after months of uncertainty in the wake of what had happened.

The way she'd allowed Tony to drag her around the city all evening, taking pleasure in the smile on his face and the photo he'd taken while she pretended not to notice, the spring in his step past the months of dancing around each other after everything that had happened that summer. They'd gone for dinner and she'd felt a flutter in her stomach when he'd looked at her that had equally surprised and terrified her, something she'd thought she'd never feel for him again. They'd talked for hours about the most mundane of topics and it had been nice but still awkward, both of them trying too hard to prove they were Absolutely OK Being Alone Together Again.

They'd gone back to the hotel and she'd kissed him then, some part of her brain convincing herself it was the right thing to do to fix things between them. It hadn't worked, and deep down she'd known it was superficial to think it a solution, but they'd gotten into bed side by side and it hadn't taken long before they'd laughed about it. Really, genuinely, laughed.

It was then, and only then, that she realised everything was going to be alright. If they could fix that, if they could survive that summer, they could fix anything.

And here they were now, ten years later. Still fixing. Still surviving.

"Did you tell her about that? Paris?"

"I would get into bed with her and tell stories. I think almost every story I told her was about you."

Past tense.

"I'll try it. Maybe it’ll.. I don't know."

"It helps. I think - I know it helped me. And she enjoys them. Tali loved you so much before she even knew you." It seemed worth saying but the awful uncomfortable silence that immediately clung onto the words made her regret them. A reminder of the decisions she'd made. "I am sorry, I-"

"No. No, let's not do that."

He was always too quick to jump to her defence, she'd often thought. Especially when the attacker was herself. "We're not wasting time with repeating apologies, Ziva, alright? I know you mean it. You don't need to convince me."

She could hear the sincerity in his voice, though even the raw words from him were usually enough to convince her of anything.

"You should tell her those stories." She reaffirmed, back on topic but guilt still heavy on her back.

"Pictures too?"

"Yes. I always showed her pictures. Do you-"

"Yeah." There was a hint of disconnect in the way they were talking. Both of them in a rush to get their points across knowing the conversation wasn't going to last forever, the slightly awkward flow a symptom of the years apart. "I have hundreds."

"I thought maybe you would have thrown them away."

"No. I could never have done that."

“I am not sure it is safe.”

“Ziva, if they come close enough to look through my photo albums I think I’m already pretty much screwed. They’re all on paper, it’s fine.”

“OK.”

“Don’t feel bad.” He added quietly, perhaps sensing a prickling in her tone. “I get why you’re cautious.”

“These people, Tony…”

“I know.”

“I just could not live with myself if anything happened to you. Either of you. The thought of it turns my stomach.”

“You just let me worry about that. I’ll keep them under lock and key.” She heard a joke in his tone but it was undercut with something more pained – an attempt to lighten either her mood or his own.

She lowered her own to reach out to him. “I know all of this is hard on you. The secrets and the uncertainty. You do not have to pretend otherwise.”

“Not like it isn’t hard on you too.” There was no arguing with that – even if all she wanted to do was explain that it wasn’t comparable. That her suffering was a drop in the ocean compared to the complete innocence of he and Tali and the way their lives had been turned upside down because of her. “But I tried to prepare myself for it, as much as you _can_ prepare for something like this. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you for a while.”

"This is not the norm."

"You just wanted to hear my voice?" He repeated the words back to her with caution, and then sighed quietly. "What's really going on, Ziva?"

"Nothing. Nothing I could put into words. I think I just.. needed a reminder of why I am doing this. I know I should not need one, but it is the truth. I really needed to talk to you today."

"I think I needed to hear from you too."

"Yes?"

"Didn't really have the option. I'm glad you reached out when you did."

"Tony, I... I am sorry. About that."

"I know. You can't trust me not to come running."

"It is not as simple as that. Every day I am somewhere different. Constant contact would draw attention."

“I just wanna know what you’re doing. Tell me about somewhere you’ve already been.”

Ziva hesitated. Her memory wasn’t all there, her brain presumably setting up defences to keep her going: flashes of back alley streets and her hand covering her face and blood, sometimes her own. It was strange how a couple of weeks could feel both like a lifetime and a split second.

“To be honest, I do not exactly spend time admiring the scenery. I have spent most of my time between the Middle East and North Africa. I have not been back to Israel but I have been in Turkey, Qatar, Tunisia. The only place that sticks in my mind aside from Cairo is when I came to see the two of you.”

“What did you do?”

“Just watched you. I did not dare get close – I was worried one of you would see me.”

Her hand was itching to reach out and touch him, and she sought to occupy it by slowly running her fingers over her thigh. Allowing her nails to scratch the material, just - feeling the fabric beneath her fingers.

“I don’t know that I would’ve. I think I might need glasses.”

“I cannot picture you in glasses.”

“No?”

There was the faintest hint of lightness in his voice and Ziva latched onto it. “Clark Kent, yes? Your secret identity.”

“Who knows, you might not recognise me next time you see me.” He clearly meant it as a joke but it landed heavily, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Sorry. Sorry, uh – attempt at a secret identity kinda joke. Didn’t think that one through.”

“Maybe you are right. We are both changing.”

“You didn’t change one bit, at least not compared to me. And you had a baby in that time.”

"Your hair is long now. I like it. I never said that in Cairo."

“Yeah? I was thinking about cutting it.”

“Maybe you could grow it back for when we see each other again.”

“Hey, whatever you want I’m happy to deliver.”

Ziva allowed herself, at the light charm that invaded his tone, to allow herself to imagine it. Being up close to them for real – touching them, smelling them, holding both of them in her arms and never having to let go.

Like a bolt, the thought was interrupted. She heard footsteps and sprung to her feet as the gate of the next garden along clicked open. She reached for the knife at her waist until she fully registered the man’s face: a cousin of the contact who’d found her the place to stay last night. She involuntarily put a hand to her chest for a split second as she felt her breathing relax and he smiled apologetically as he walked past her carrying a cardboard box.

Maybe she overreacted to things now. Difficult to shake the thought that one day she might underestimate a situation and find herself in the kind of trouble she couldn’t get out of.

“Everything alright?”

Tony noticed her silence, and likely her exaggerated breathing too. Ziva sat down, invisible threat neutralised.

“Yes, sorry. Someone was here. False alarm.”

“Where are you? Not _where_ , but.. where.”

“I am in a back alley behind the house I stayed in last night. People were still sleeping, so I stepped outside.”

“Are you there for good?”

“No, an old contact was able to put me in touch with somebody who had some space in a room for the night. It was cramped, but that did not matter. I am moving on today.”

“Did you manage to get some sleep?”

"Not really, but I hope it will be enough to get me through the day. I have a big one ahead. That is another reason I wanted to call.” She paused to see if he’d respond, hoping he’d guess the words without having to force herself to say them. She steadied her voice. “I wanted to let you know I am going off grid for a while. Maybe a long while."

A couple of seconds of silence.

"How long?"

"I am not sure. I realise sometimes I hide some of the facts, but that is the truth."

"Ball park? We talking months? Longer?"

"I hope not longer, but it could be."

"Years, without any kind of contact? Without even knowing if you're alive?"

"I know that-" Ziva felt tears pricking in her eyes and closed them, allowing words to spill out of her instead. "I wish I did not have to go immediately for the worst case scenario." This was actually the 3rd worst case, after them being killed, but she had no desire to entertain that thought. "As long as you know that every day it is what I am fighting for. Every day for this - to be able to talk to you and tell you I'm alright. To hear your voice and hear you talk about our daughter. That is what every day is for."

The burden of secrecy was heavy. Of hiding, and fighting, and keeping her head down. Lately she'd been plagued by thoughts of Tali's voice: her laugh, her hesitant intonation as she continued to grow her vocabulary. Would she forget that one day? Would she lose her grip on her daughter's voice - forget the way she reacted when she was tired, how she used to pull on Ziva's necklace, her laughter like a hyena at every cartoon she watched?

There were other things, too: things about Tony she'd had a lot longer to contend with than the last couple of months when it had become clear where things were heading with Tali. Playing this conversation, or one very much like it, over and over in her head, trying to find ways to convey the depths of what she felt in her chest when she even allowed herself a fleeting thought.

The idea of all of this coming to nothing - of fighting like this for god knows how long, to not make it back, was too much to contend with. She had to. She was incapable of anything else.

A bird had landed in the tree that poked over the walled garden in front of where she sat. She watched as it ruffled its feathers and disappeared in and out of the leaves. Wondered if it had children waiting for it, back in its nest. Wondered if the concern she felt for that possibility was a sign she was really cracking up.

She kicked a stone around lightly with the toe of her boot.

"Do you remember the summer Gibbs retired, and we spent like a week rearranging all the furniture in my house? You kept getting mad about tripping over my DVD collection.”

The contrast, as it was to her mood, made her smile a little. “It was a ridiculous place to have a shelving unit.”

“That’s why we were always better off at your place – I can keep my opinions to myself.” Ziva smirked. "Those shelves were fine. Never had any problems with them before you came along.”

It was clear it hadn’t occurred to him the double meaning between his joke about their interior design disagreements and the things that had been playing on her mind for weeks. How true that statement was.

"What made you think of that summer?"

"I don't know. It's been on my mind all day."

It was inevitable at this stage, Ziva thought, that any discussion between them would lead back to the past; opportunities missed like they had been that summer. Things that played on her mind more now she was alone, and evidently had been keeping Tony occupied too.

He'd always had a way of accompanying her down paths with endings unclear.

“I think about that summer myself sometimes. Things were simple back then. Or, more simple than they would become.”

"I was just thinking... I know I had no right to back then, and I probably did things that made you not believe it for a while, but that's when I first started to realise that being there with you felt like some kind of home.” He sounded vulnerable as he said the word quickly and she could imagine him frowning in that way he did when he was saying something he wasn’t sure he was able to voice. “I didn't understand it, back then. Hell - maybe I still don't really understand what it means. But it was more home than I'd ever felt before. More than I'd got at my actual home, that's for sure. Holed up in your showroom apartment with that crappy TV I got you, you falling asleep with your mouth open with that huge blanket over our legs. And I'd turn the movie down so you didn't wake up and then pretend I was mad you weren't listening."

“I do not remember doing much sleeping that summer.”

He laughed a little but the sound was bitter and soon faded into a sigh. "Another thing I screwed up."

"It is not as though that was your fault, Tony. You were following orders."

"I could've said no."

She wondered, sometimes, at what point Tony had realised she fell in love with him that summer. If it had been some point in the throes of everything with Jeanne, when she’d been so worried about him she’d bug Gibbs until he was blue in the face about Tony’s secrecy. Whether it had come afterwards, in the fallout, when she’d confronted him in the bathroom. When she’d asked him about soulmates and he’d clammed up, still not ready to talk about those things.

Then, maybe he hadn’t realised at all. To tell the truth, it was only with hindsight that she was able to recognise it for herself. She was 23 years old, never in love before. Pushing it down beneath denial and fear and covering it with concern for his safety.

"You were right - what you said to me about not going over old wounds. There is no use torturing yourself over things that happened so long ago."

"I know. But it's hard not to get stuck on that stuff. Wondering whether things would be different now if I hadn't got freaked out and thrown myself into something else."

Ziva could sympathise, of course. When she was lying alone on floors and crumpled up in chairs trying desperately to fall asleep, thinking about the mistakes she'd made that had led her to this point. Replaying the night she found out she was pregnant over and over again in her head until she could hardly breathe.

Maybe if she'd been honest from day one, they wouldn't be in this mess.

"Anyone ever tell you how loudly you think?" There was a joke to the words but it was sharp, a sad little smile she could hear on his face.

"Not sure I have ever been accused of that, actually. Just by you."

"There's no point punishing yourself, Ziva. There's no reason to keep blaming yourself for all of this."

"There is. I understand you cannot see it that way, though." It was her actions that led her here. Had someone chasing after her. Had them apart.

"I hate the thought that you're keeping yourself awake over it."

"You do not need to.. I know what you are going to say."

"I know you do. You just said the exact words to me."

"I will listen if you will."

"Deal. Can't make promises, but I'll try."

"I will too. For your sake." Thoughts of herself lying in cramped beds were replaced with ones of him, her mirror image, bed big and achingly empty but the same look in his eye and clenched-finger fist. "How have _you_ been sleeping?"

"Not so bad. Not at all at first, but I think I'm just too tired now to put up a fight."

“It is late.” She hated herself as the words came out of her mouth but she knew it was the right thing to do. The longer she stayed on the line the harder it was going to be to hang up. Her schedule tightening. Tony getting more and more tired with the guarantee of Tali waking up early in the morning as she always did, a habit she’d inherited from Ziva.

“I know.”

“You should get some sleep.”

"I don't know if I _can_ sleep, Ziva."

"You sound tired."

"Isn't that 50% of being a parent?"

 _Being a parent_. He said the words as though they were foreign still on his tongue.

"She is sleeping, you should sleep."

"How can I sleep when you're.."

"Tony. Please. I will feel better if you sleep."

He didn't respond. A couple of years ago she would've hated that you could hear a beg in her voice, but she was tired and desperate and scared, clinging onto hopes of a shred of normality. Some semblance that she hadn't ruined something else. "Close your eyes."

"Alright. You want me to stay on the line?"

She’d been thinking it, but the fact he’d asked without prompting was yet more proof of the insight he had into the things she struggled to say out loud. “I will hang up when you are asleep.”

“Then you’re on the move?”

"Yes.” Another deep breath and a rush through her next sentence. “When you wake up, take a hammer to this phone."

“Is that not excessive?”

“I would rather be excessive than caught out.”

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

His voice had dropped a tone and rather than responding, Ziva listened to the sound of his breathing as it slowed.

They were both quiet for a couple of minutes, and Ziva wondered if he was listening to her in the same way she was seeking comfort from him. She tilted her head up to watch the sky as the clouds began to clear: it was a bright day but windy, the blue clearing quickly, which probably meant it would be colder tonight than it had been in recent weeks. She had never been a big fan of travelling in the cold. She heard the distant sounds of traffic beginning to pile up as morning commutes started but they paled in comparison to the sounds of Tony’s slowed breathing on the other end of the line.

“Are you still awake?”

“Just about.”

“I love you.”

"I know you do, Ziva."

"Yes?"

"I love you too. No matter what happens. You just need to.. not worry about us. OK? Well be alright; me and Tali."

"I could say the same to you."

"No - I'm allowed to worry about you right now. But you just need to worry about yourself."

“Everything will be fine.”

It didn’t sound convincing but she knew that wouldn’t sate him anyway, and she heard him take a stuttered breath as though he held something back.

“Be careful. Alright? And call when you can. Even if it’s… whenever. I don’t care how long. We’ll be waiting.”

“I will. I promise.”

“There’s so much I want to say. Don’t know how to.” The sentence was jumbled a little, muffled as though he was speaking against his pillow. Ziva could feel tears threatening in the corners of her eyes again.

“When I see you next, I want you to tell me everything.”

“I really do love you.”

“Go to sleep.”

He took a deep, loud breath for effect, and then she heard the phone muffle further as he re-settled himself.

There was something reassuring about the sound of him breathing. It was funny that something so simple, that she'd heard a thousand times before, could now be so calming. She imagined him lying on his back, phone tucked to his ear, his chest rising and falling. The thought made her ache.

She found herself counting in her head, trying to calm herself down as thoughts of what lay ahead and the impact they might have begun to flood her mind. Tony and Tali – so unassuming, going to the park in the early mornings and looking for a job and trying to live normal lives while Ziva got drawn further and further into the shadows. She hoped he would listen. Prayed he would be able to find some peace in that life with their daughter, allowing himself to not get burdened worrying for her every minute of the day.

More than anything, she begged to god that the two of them would be left alone.

“Tony?”

This time, he didn’t respond. She could hear in the shallowness of his breath that he was sleeping for real now, in spite of his protestations.

She placed the phone at her side before standing up.

She knew she had to do this. Why did it feel so difficult? Why was the thought turning her stomach?

She picked up the phone again before she could stop herself, calming her own breathing to the sound of Tony’s. Imagined him with the phone tucked underneath his ear on the pillow.

Placed it down again on the floor. Reminded herself of the risks. It’s for his own good. For _Tali’s_ own good.

With a final, long look down at the screen, she brought her heel down hard and smashed the phone to pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> I've written 50% of a fic of that night in Paris in the Jetlag era. I might finish it one day


End file.
